Crisp and White and Mocking
by frankiewode
Summary: He shows up wearing a white suit and pinned to his collar is a yellow rose corsage. The flower symbolizes an everlasting and dying love. It fits...


Crisp and White and Mocking

**A/N:** Little angsty one-shot I thought up. There isn't a particular pairing here, you can probably tell which one I favor but you can go either way or neither way if you prefer. ^^

_Disclaimer: I do not own Ouran High School Host Club. It belongs to Bisco Hatori_

_---_

He shows up wearing a white suit; the perfect outfit for a wedding...

The engagement is announced three months prior to the day and he feels his heart break as he watches the couple proudly display the ring on her finger. It sparkles a blood red. He would have given her blue. She doesn't have a preference but he knows how the colour compliments her eyes.

She decides on a simple white gown for the wedding. There is no lace, no encrusted beads. Her father almost cries at this knowledge but she doesn't seem to care. The dress fits after-all and that's all that matters. He isn't there the day she picks out her wedding dress; or the flowers; or the cake. He only knows as he glances into a shop window and notices her admiring how the strapless dress drapes around her frame. He stares and she smiles and he thinks of how beautiful she is.  
His heart breaks once more.

He hasn't seen either of them in a month but the invitation still arrives and he looks fixedly at it; crisp and white and mocking. He unfolds the card, careful not to impart any fingerprints and gazes at the two names embossed in calligraphy. He tries to will himself not to cry but a single tear trickles down his cheek.  
He's the best man...

There are several messages on his answering machine but he is certain that none are from the bride and groom to be. They don't have to worry; they know he will come. He does not listen to the messages because he already knows the content. He can predict the pity in their voices and desperate pleads for his arrival but he knows already that he is to attend the wedding. If not to fulfil his duty as best man then to just see her smile once more, even if it is not for his benefit. He just wants her to be happy and he is willing for his heart to break once more. Silently he presses delete and within a minute the machine is empty.

It is a month before the day and he decides on a tuxedo to wear for the event. He is almost tempted by the black to signify his mourning but it is just not _him. _He chooses the white instead also donning a yellow rose corsage. Tears well up in his eyes as he remembers that the flower symbolises everlasting and dying love. It fits... He reassures himself by reminding himself that the white stands for hope and purity. He wants to tell himself that he will wait for her but he doubts she will ever come. So instead he hopes for her happy future. He sighs. Together he knows the ensemble represents how he is feeling better than the black suit ever could. He hopes this isn't evident on the day.

With two weeks to go he finds a guest at his door. He hasn't seen the dark haired man in over two months. In an almost derisive manner the visitor assumes that the narcissistic blonde is coming to the wedding. He also assumes that he would prefer Tai-no-sashimi over Kazunoko. He nods to both questions; despite the fact they were never asked. And then the man asks another question. "Am I also to assume that you are in love with my fiancé?" Silence... He flinches but then nods again, blushing furiously. The visitor struggles with his usual nonchalant composure, surprised that he could admit it so plainly. Then the visitor adjusts his glasses and bids farewell to his flustered friend telling him something before leaving through the baroque pillars.

He is speechless and kneels on the ground startled by his friend's words and caresses the yellow rose between his fingers. He witnesses something disturbing on the news that night and breaks down in despair.

It is the day of the wedding and he shows up in his white suit. He has been crying all morning and the red skin surrounding his eye displays this. It's early, the church is sparsely populated and only Honey, Mori and the Hitachiin brothers have taken their seats. He finally spots her standing by the podium. She looks beautiful but instead of the white gown she wears black. She seems to be staring into the distance and it's only when he reaches her side does he see what she is gazing at.  
His heart breaks all over again.

It is haunting but also strangely addictive. He can't tear his eyes away from Kyoyas pale face and he knows Haruhi can't either. His angular jaw no longer portrays his obnoxiously self-assertive smile; his skin is dull, lifeless. And his mouth no longer holds his infamous smirk but in its places lies a twisted pout. They can't bear to watch and yet they feel as if they were to stop he would vanish. He would really become only a memory. His eyes are twisted up in pain and his hair is windswept. No-one has dared to perfect the third son's appearance. He thinks it is ironic that his face in death holds more emotion than when he was alive. The proverbial mask has fallen and he can now see the pain his friend is truly in. He wonders what possessed him to carelessly step in front of that car that night. Kyoya is never careless.

The news that night, at 10pm as always, spoke of the young Ootori who had been involved in a collision on the west-most intersection in Shibuya while on his walk back home. It had happened only one hour after he had left the Tamaki's house. The impact caused instant death and the Ootori family was left in despair... mostly.

He didn't want to believe it and even when the news is delivered personally he doesn't. And when an invitation to the funeral arrives at his doorstep as crisp and white as the first; he doesn't. It is only now staring at his best friend's corpse can he comprehend what had happened. But he still doesn't want to believe it.

A voice rouses him from his thoughts and he realises that Haruhi has been calling his name. He turns to her and although she had not been crying tears well up in her eyes at the sight of him. He only stares silently and thinks of the despair they both feel. He pulls her close and wraps his arms around her petite frame. He buries his head into her hair and feels a warm sensation on his skin. She is silently sobbing into his neck. His body feels heavy and he sinks to the floor still holding Haruhi in his embrace. They are both crying now in shuddering gasps and neither can speak; they just cling to each other as if would make the reality any less painful.

They attract the attention of the other four hosts across the room. The moment is touching as well as tragic and they find themselves crying along with the couple. But they now know that eventually she will be ok. They watch in silence.

She grips the back of his shirt and looks up into his face. This evokes another wave of tears. "I-I did love him..." She whispers vaguely, as if the thought has now been rendered meaningless. He notices a pang in his chest but he still holds onto her. "I know." And he remembers Kyoyas last words to him mere hours before his death.

"_I believe that the feeling is mutual. I trust you to look after her Tamaki."_

He understands now and it hurts. It hurts that his friend has done this to himself. The entire time they had known each other Kyoya would unsuspectingly give up everything for Tamaki. The blonde was previously oblivious but now he realises.

A few years after Kyoyas graduation Yoshio Ootori awarded his first born son as successor. Though he would never show it the shadow kings hopes were crushed; all his planning now... irrelevant. Haruhi had been a comfort to him. She felt pity for him and he in turn fell in love with her. They were engaged a year later.

She was the only thing left in his life and he had not expected to lose her also. But when he did he realised that she had never really belonged to him in the first place. He would have to give up once more. Because though Kyoya possessed her hand in marriage, Tamaki would forever hold her heart. So when he left the Suoh estate just two weeks ago he knew exactly what he had to do. People would speculate it as an oddly impulsive act for Kyoya but unbeknown to them he had thoroughly calculated the speed of the car, the distance he would have to travel and the force of the impact. Suicide was not an easy task; but he had succeeded; killed immediately.

And now he lies in a mahogany coffin; hand carved in Italy. Two sobbing figures melded together are in agony before the ceremony has even begun. It will in 15 minutes. People start to fill the church. Tamaki can see Kyoyas father, stoic and silent, and his sister wracked in tears next to him. The room is almost completely full now; so many people mourn the fallen Ootori prodigy.

He doesn't know yet know why the dark haired king had to resort to such drastic measures but he understands the reasons. He strokes Haruhi's hair and decides to keep his promise. He places a kiss upon her forehead and instead of his usual gallantry she sees compassion and sorrow.

They stand up and Tamaki carefully unpins his yellow rose corsage and places in within the coffin. The ceremony is beginning and Tamaki takes his place upon the podium to deliver his eulogy. Haruhi stands beside him. He will never forgive Kyoya for what he has done but... he will make sure his effort is not in vain.

He takes one last look back at the coffin behind him and smiles. He smiles for the first time in 3 months.

He begins.

"Kyoya Ootori was respectable, intelligent and irrefutably handsome. But above all else he was generous." There are quite a few murmurs below him. Quite a few people had not recognised this particular trait in the man. "He was generous to a fault Kyoya," another tear rolls down his cheek but he still smiles. "He would give up so much for the people he cared about but he would mask his actions as personal gain." The few that knew him well nod along to this statement. "He was the best friend anyone could have ever asked for." He bows his head and places a hand on Haruhi's shoulder. "We will forever love him." As he finishes they both make their way down the steps and take their seats.

He had given up his life and his love for the sake of his friends. And they all knew that...

Kyoya Ootori was truly a generous man.

---

**A/N:** Poor Tamaki, poor Kyoya :( Well pretty much everyone suffers in this fic. Oh and I know it probably doesn't seem like a thing Kyoya would do, even for Tamaki but he had to for this fic to work. I guess the pairing is mainly Haruhi/Tamaki but there is also a bit of Haruhi/Kyoya and if you look closely even the tiniest bit of Kyoya/Tamaki but thats more of a loving friendship. Oh and the wedding food: Tai-no-sashimi and Kazunoko, well the 'Tai-no-sashimi' dish (grilled sea bream with salt) can mean happiness and the 'Kazunoko' (herring roe) can represent fertility. I figured Tamaki would prefer to just think of Haruhi's happiness rather than to think of her and Kyoya having children so he chose the first dish. Sorry if this research isn't reliable, I don't personally know a lot about Japanese culture I've just enlisted the help of google. ^^ So please R&R!


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